


Talk Dirty To Me, Papi Dulce

by mortysmithh



Series: Rick and Morty porn [7]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Blue Balls, Bus jerkin it, Daddy Kink, Grandfather/Grandson - Freeform, I'm sorry for that one oml, Incest, M/M, Masturbation, Public Humiliation, Somewhat??, dirty talking, poor bby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 01:59:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5187857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mortysmithh/pseuds/mortysmithh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I added in some Spanish because Rick fucking Sanchez is absolutely a Spanish-speaker don't touch me<br/>Sorry if I butchered anything, I'm still learning!! ;w;</p><p>For the lovely theseamphibiandays: So I have this headcannon that Morty gets super turned on by any kind of vocalization from Rick, like his moans or Rick saying his name, so one day Rick replaces every one of Morty's songs on his phone with dirty recordings of him moaning his name and telling Morty what he's going to do to him when he gets home, and so when Morty is riding the bus to school he puts in his earbuds and just hears Rick jacking off and saying the most filthy things and he's super turned on the rest of the school day</p><p>I hope I did your idea justice!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk Dirty To Me, Papi Dulce

The expression on Rick Sanchez’s face isn’t exactly _evil_ , per se, but mischievous doesn’t even come close to what’s laced into the smirk etched on his face as he messes with Morty’s iPhone at three in the morning.

He messes around with the files on his computer, double-checking that each one is an oh-so-sexy recording of his own voice. Not that he’s (very) narcissistic or anything, but he’s quite proud of what he’s managed to do. If he weren’t so busy making sure Morty gets a very nice surprise tomorrow morning, he’d open up a portal and fuck an alternate of his.

Shaking the thought out of his head, he mutters to himself ‘focus, you fuck, he gets up in like an hour or something’ and renames the last two files to song names from the music files on Morty’s device. “Mmhm, absolutely fuckin’ perfect, just like a Rick, if I do say so myself,” he mumbles, sipping from some random bottle that he got off of the floor as the files upload to Morty’s phone, replacing all of the real songs with the false ones.

He gets everything finished up in the next twenty minutes, double-checking and triple-checking it all before quietly sneaking up to put the phone back on it’s charging stand, then leaving with a barely-suppressed snicker.

 _Now_ the expression on his face can be considered ‘evil’.

* * *

“You Spin Me Right Round: Pentatonix Covers”

‘ _Perfect_ ,’ Morty thinks to himself with a smile, selecting it with an anticipatory little squeak, only to have to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from squawking at the gruff moan that booms in his ears. He quickly turns down the volume, grateful for the fact that it’s so early in the morning on such a cold Winter day that, if anyone heard it, nobody saw that it was him, and it’s not like he’s someone you’d want to sit next to on the bus.

Morty Smith in the morning is a force to be reckoned with, for sure.

His exhausted, bleary mind is jerked back into almost-oversharp focus as Rick groans into his ear (slightly quieter because for fuck’s sakes, no amount of delicious public humiliation is worth getting actually _caught_ , on the school bus no less) something absolutely filthy.

“Mmmh, daddy’s little _bitch_ , aren’t you? _Such_ a good boy, all ready for me to _fuck_ ,” and the way he growls out that last word, like he _knows_ Morty’s his bitch and his bitch alone, sends a shot of hot arousal up his spine that cools off almost immediately to a solid presence that slips down into his lower gut.

Chewing on his lip, he palms at himself through his pants, silently praising whatever deities that might exist for it still being so dark that he’s unable to see his own hand in front of his face. He nearly jumps out of his seat when Rick groans, and this time it sounds almost exactly like Rick’s really there with him, and for a split second, he can almost feel his grandpa’s hands on his body, touching him with long, calloused fingers, instead of with Morty’s delicate, admittedly slightly stubby ones.

‘ _The fucker used a 3-D microphone to mess with me, oh, god, fuck, I am SO getting him back once I get home_ ,’ he thinks to himself even as he palms at himself harder, chewing on his lip and aggravating it enough that a small split forms and the taste of iron floods the tip of his tongue even as he quite suddenly sits up, adjusting himself in his pants so that his boner isn’t visible and the hiss of the bus doors opening sounds.

He yanks out one earbud, turning the volume down but still listening to Rick moaning and grunting heatedly into his ear.

‘ _Mmmh, you dirty little **slut** , you want my dick, don’t you, you little shit? You want me to fuck you, right? Nnnngh, fuck, I’m so ready to fuck you so hard in the ass that you won’t be able to walk for a goddamn WEEK. No adventures, no school, just me sucking your pretty little dick off and making you weak from cumming. I’ll only keep doing that until you’re ready for my massive cock again, mmmmnh, Mort_-’

“HELLO?” The word is shouted into his ear, and he yelps, nearly jumping out of his skin and cheeks going bright red as he realizes Brad and his gang are up in his face. Yanking out his earbud and pressing pause on his phone, he looks up at the other male, smiling weakly and rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly.

“O-Oh, jeez, sorry ab- a-about that, I’m- I-I, uh, h-how- how’s it goin’, B-Brad?”

Instead of the usual taunting, Brad just tilts a brow at his strange attitude and the way he’s stammering even more than usual. He’s a prick, but he isn’t heartless, and it’s with a half-assed shove to Morty’s shoulder that he brushes past the boy without saying anything.

Heart pounding, he chastises himself internally; he’d already almost been caught, he really, _really_ shouldn’t listen to any more. At least, not until he gets on the bus home, or until he’s somewhere more alone, more private, but Rick’s voice echoes in his head once more, and it’s with a shaky sigh that he plugs an earphone back into his ear and presses play, turning the volume up since the hallway’s grown more crowded with students.

‘ _Ohhh god, Morty, you’re such a tight little slut, aren’t you? Already hard and ready for me to fuck you into the damn mattress. Wanna see how many times we can go before you pass out? I bet we can break the bed before th_ -’

The first bell rings, and he jumps again, running his hands over his face in a semi-exasperated attempt to keep his blush from getting too horrible, even though his face already feels like it’s on fire. Hurrying to get to his first period class, he shakes his head, pausing the audio clip and making a resolution to not listen to anymore, so that he doesn’t get distracted.

The first thing he notices when he gets there is that there’s a substitute, and he’s had her before. She never gives two shits about whether you’re on your device or not, or what you’re even doing in the class, because as long as the work’s done and nobody’s done anything she can be held liable for, she doesn’t care.

He gets a thought. A horrible, terrible thought that he knows he absolutely _should not_ act upon, but it’s almost robotically that he shoves one earbud into an ear, careful to keep the other ear open in case he needs to check that the volume’s not so loud that people around him can hear. Luckily, everyone’s trying to get a turn on the computers, and he’s left sitting at his desk with a worksheet in front of him. A bitter thought runs through his mind; ‘ _Whatever asshole put me in Latin in first period is a real dick_ ’, as he glares down at his paper.

And then Rick distracts him.

‘ _Mmm, mi pequeña puta traviesa. Do you remember what that means, Morty? It means that you’re my filthy, naughty little bitch_.’

A horribly salacious moan follows after, the sound gritty and rough and everything he loves about Rick’s voice, reminding him of the especially hoarse way his grandfather’s tone will drop even further, vibrating in his very toes as he fucks into Morty-

He doesn’t realize that he’s closed his eyes in mortified bliss until the bell for second period rings and he jumps with a soft squeak that, thankfully, nobody’s around to hear. He quickly shoves his things into his backpack, yanking the earbud back out and making a resolution to not listen to anything until he gets home. ‘ _Or, at least, back onto the bus_ ,’ his mind decides to chime in, and he decides that listening to it on the bus probably isn’t too bad of an idea. It’s a hell of a lot safer than listening to it in class, anyways.

But despite the tingling fear in the back of his mind that he’ll get caught listening to outright vocal porn in class, he continues to listen in each class, and as he walks out of seventh period with a relieved sigh, he has to duck back into the restroom to readjust his raging boner. He thought that World History might kill it, but apparently Rick Sanchez’s gritty tones are more than adequate for keeping up a seven-hour case of self-imposed blue balls.

He sighs and checks his reflection in the mirror, and, aside from looking a bit pink, he decides that he doesn’t look _too_ flustered, and runs to catch his bus.

Seating himself at the very back of the bus, he only hesitates for a few moments before checking that nobody else is sitting even remotely close to him. Then, selecting a ‘song’ at random, he lets his eyes slip shut and Rick’s voice float into his ears once more.

‘ _God, you little whore, how have you already m-EURGH- made it to this recording already? I bet you’ve been thinking of me aaaalll dayy long_ ,’ he drawls out, slurring ever so slightly and his voice doing the thing where it’s almost as if he’s right there, somehow walking around Morty as he says such horrible, wonderful things.

Chewing on his bottom lip and carefully palming at his dick in a totally conspicuous way, he lets his mind wander, coming up with countless scenarios, all of them involving Rick tying him up or restraining him in some way while wrecking him with his talent with dirty talking.

“SMITH! We’re at your stop, come on son, ye can’t keep fallin’ asleep on th’ damn bus!” The burly Scottish bus driver shouts his surname, jerking Morty into an upright position. He grabs his stuff and gives the red-bearded man a weak, blushy smile as apology before he practically sprints to his house, desperately needing to masturbate before his dick explodes. He didn’t realize he needed it so bad until he’d pulled his hand away, thanking any gods that may exist that his dick’s still how he’d rearranged himself earlier.

He practically slams the door open in his haste, bolting up the stairs as quickly as he can with a heavy backpack, dropping it to the floor and leaning against the wall as he unzips his pants and pulls out his rock hard dick, stroking it and biting his lip so hard that he can feel the skin threatening to break.

Then his bedroom door opens, Rick leaning against the doorway and wearing the most shit-eating grin Morty’s seen in a long time. “Soooo, enjoy my present, Morty? Y-You know, it took me like five outtakes for each recording; you know how _hard_ it is to not burp while telling your grandson just how many fingers you’re going to sink into his ass?”

And he’s done, cumming into his fist with a buck of his hips and tearing up slightly with how _good_ it is to finally be able to cum, and with Rick right in front of him, no less. His grandfather doesn’t say anything, not even cracking a joke about ‘not lasting at all, damn, Morty.’ No, instead, he walks over, uncurls Morty’s hand from his dick, brings it up to his mouth, and licks it clean, leaving several areas of the kid’s hand damp with saliva and a filth that goes much deeper than any physical levels.

“Mmh, well, I guess that answers my question. W-Wanna go down- go to the- my special room, a-and do _exactly_ as I said I would, cariño?” 

The visible shudder that runs up Morty’s spine is more than enough, and he grabs Morty’s hand, tugging him down to the garage and snickering as he glances back to see the boy’s dick already starting to get hard once more. This is going to be fun.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr's kinkykankri, gimme fic ideas and, as always, leave Kudos and comments!! <33


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